Secrets
by anangelslament
Summary: Mark and Roger find themselves awake during a storm and find something needs to be shared.Lyrics: Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera.


**Secrets**

_Night-time sharpens; heightens each sensation.  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses. _

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor.  
Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender.  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day  
turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light.  
_And listen to the music of the night..._

It was late and another summer storm rolled in. The pitter patter of rain drops fell on the window and the constant clash of thunder was followed by bright splashes of lightening lighting the August sky. The last boom of thunder had awoken Mark from his slumber. Groggily he wandered into the kitchen to warm up some milk. It reminded him of when he was little and how his mother would find the small boy huddled at the foot of her bed wide awake from a bad dream or some bump in the night. She would take him in her arms and sit him down at the kitchen table to make herself a cup of tea and him a warm glass of milk. It always calmed his nerves and sent him back to his pleasant dreams. This night was no different and on his way back to his room he spotted Roger at his usual spot on the windowsill with guitar in hand. "What are you doing up so late?" Mark questioned.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"The storm woke me and I'm guessing it woke you as well."

"No. I've been up . . . thinking," he replied with a dreamy air.

"About?"

"Nothing in particular, just things."

He turned his back to Mark and began to pluck things out on his guitar while mumbling to himself. Mark thought he heard him mention April's name and guessed that is what Roger was thinking about again. Why he was surprised was beyond him. It was April's death that kept the young man trapped in their loft apartment.

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.  
Close your eyes let your spirit  
start to soar! _

And you'll live as you've  
never lived before...

Mark had crawled back into bed and was snuggled safely under the covers and halfway back to sleep when another clamor roused him. "What is it this time?" the young man asked himself. It was not thunder. He could tell that much. It sounded like crying but the only other person in the apartment was Roger and Mark had never heard him cry. He decided to crawl out of his cocoon to investigate. "Roger? Is that you? Are you ok?" he inquired as he crossed the room.

There was no reply, just sobs. Mark approached the windowsill and sat down next to his roommate. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing," replied a startled Roger as he wiped at his eyes.

"You know you can tell me. I won't say a word to anyone. Is it about April?"

He shook his head and looked up with tears still in his eyes. Mark could tell he was choking on the words he was about to say. "I don't know if I can. I should tell you. I should, but I can't." He turned to face the wall and avoid Mark's gaze.

"Roger, it's me. We're supposed to be best friends. I think you could tell me. If not, fine but I'm willing to help."

"But you're the problem," he muttered.

"What?"

_Softly, deftly music shall surround you, feel it, hear it, closing in around you.  
Open up your mind; let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night. _

Let your mind start to journey though a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me...

"Did you say I was the problem?"

"Yes."

Mark was aghast. How could he be the problem? Was there something he had done in these past few days that were different from the norm? None that he could think of, unless. Unless it was about the pictures he had left out. Along with being a filmmaker Mark also did some photography and had been taking frequent pictures of Roger for a project he was doing. Could that be it? "I'm sorry. Did I do something I don't know of?"

"No. It's not your fault. Forget I even said anything." He began to pick up his belongings and head back to his room.

"Roger wait!"

He spun on his heel to face Mark, angry tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "What?"

"I want to know what I did wrong."

"Nothing. I said to forget it. Just drop it ok?"

"This one time I'm going to refuse. What did I do and why won't you tell me?"

"It's not that easy," he whispered more or less to the floor.

"Well life isn't easy," Mark retorted as Roger crossed the room to his friend's side.

"I don't know how to say this."

Roger looked up and stared straight into Mark's eyes. He felt as if he was staring directly into his soul. There was such a look of care and concern that made him feel guilty for not being able to share his secret. Mark felt the same way.

"Well if you won't say anything," Mark started, "I guess I'll have to." Roger's head cocked to the side. "Something has been bothering me as well. I just haven't said anything and wasn't planning on it. I don't even know if I can say it. It's just. I hide in my work sometimes, you know that and lately it's been a pretty damned good outlet and well. I just. . . It's like this. . . I um. . ."

Mark stumbled over his words as he studied his hands. If this was any indication about what Mark was thinking Roger was picking up on it quite well and felt the same way. "Mark," he whispered.

"Yes?" he answered sheepishly as he picked his head up.

_Floating, falling; Sweet intoxication,  
Touch me, trust me; Savor each sensation.  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in.  
to the power of the music that I write,  
the power of the music of the night! _

Roger leaned in and kissed him. A kiss full of all the ardor and desire Roger could muster which Mark blissfully returned. They broke and as Mark opened his eyes all he could do was smile. Neither had ever anticipated what the other was thinking, yet both were delighted they were thinking the same thing. Roger soundlessly stumbled back to his room while Mark stayed fixed on the spot. He reflected on the moment for a moment before he noticed Roger emerge from his room. Another crash of thunder and brilliant bolt lit up the sky. The pair's eyes met and Mark took Roger's hand as they departed for his room. With the click of the door closing another crash rattled the windows and bolt streaked the sky. The storm raged on.

_You alone can make my song take flight;  
Help me make the music of the night..._


End file.
